Stop the Nail Biting
by Annzy Bananzy
Summary: Marik Ishtar is just a teen who's addicted to biting - nails that is. He doesn't think he'll ever be able to stop, and frankly he doesn't want to. But a white-haired boy might just... change his mind... Thiefshipping one-shot.


Warnings: Thiefshipping, a little unrealistic.

I wrote this because I'm a nail biter and I wanted to make myself feel better TT_TT Though I doubt I'll ever stop… So all of these descriptions about nail biting are what I do/have done, so if you think that "No one does this!" Remember that _I do_. So there :P

_Stop the Nail Biting_

* * *

_Bite, snip, tear, bite. Snippet, chickette, ticom. Bite, snip, tear, bite._

Those are the sounds that I have come to know over the years, the sounds that comfort me as much as they anger and disappoint me. Though the anger comes later, when I realize what I've done again. The disappointment can come either while I hear the sounds, or afterwards with the anger, though if it comes with the sounds I usually ignore it, so sometimes it comes with both.

I don't know why I do this, or how I started, but I did, so… It's become addicting and I don't know how to stop. I don't think I _can_ stop. Frankly, I don't know if I_ want_ to stop. It helps me through anxiousness, through nervousness, through boredom, through _everything_, why would I want to stop? My parents and siblings complain to me about it all the time. _Stop biting your nails!_ they tell me, _It's bad for you!_ Well, too late. If you wanted me to stop, you should have caught me earlier, because once you're a nail biter, there's no going back. No, not at all.

I lean against my locker with my index finger in my mouth. I've been working at this nail for a while, softening the hard tissues before gently (or sometimes roughly - depending on the mood I'm in) ripping it off and storing it in the little pocket above my teeth; in between my gums and my large lips. I usually store them in the right pocket, to bite later. Their my gum - that way, when teachers ask, "Are you chewing gum?" I can honestly say, "No," and just store the nails in the pocket again before opening my mouth to prove it. It's ingenious really, I don't know why others haven't thought of it. Apparently, it's a 'gross and disgusting habit.' Feh. Those people can go die in a hole, they obviously don't see the stress relief of nail-biting.

I rip the nail off my finger and look at my appendage. The nail now looks all ragged and bitten - just like all the others. Ugh, honestly, the only downside to biting is the after product and the fact that the nails never last long enough. They usually end up going too soft too fast in the pocket of my mouth, and then I have to wait for my fingernails to grow again before I can get newer, harder, better ones. They're better when they're harder - better for biting and stress relief.

Anyway, I shove my hand in my pocket and start biting and licking the new biting toy I acquired. Great, hear comes the anger and disappointment. I feel the disappointment first - the one that I _really_ hate. It wells up inside me and fills me with sorrow, making me think things like, "Why do I keep doing this?" "Why can't I just stop?" "My nails look so ugly…" "I'm so disgusting," and the list goes on and on and on… Then comes the anger - my old friend. It fills me with rage, making me think things like, "Why _can't_ I bite my nails?" "It's no one else's business what I do with my fingers!" "It makes me feel better and gives me something to do, so why _can't_ I do it?" "What's so bad about it?" etc. etc. etc. This time, I feel so mad that I punch my locker, filling my knuckles with pain. I give a quick shake of my wrist to get the pain out and shove my hand back into my pocket to forget about it and how ugly it looks.

Oh yes, I'm aware that when I bite my nails that my hands look ugly, but frankly I don't give a damn. They'll grow back, and then they'll look nice for about a day (at the most) before they're gone again. Besides, long nails are a pain. I remember one of the many times I tried to stop. My nails kept getting to long and started cracking and breaking, so I tried using one of those nail-clipper-thingies, but they irritated me so much and didn't work _at all_ so I just ended up biting them off anyway. My sister offered to help me, but I said no thanks. How pathetic is it to have your older sister have to cut your nails for you because you don't have the patience to? So, considered to the other options, ugly hands were a small price to pay for my stress-reliever. Besides, it's not like anyone stared at your _hands_, right?

I put a stop to my musings and focus on the nail I just acquired. I move it around in my mouth, moving it with my tongue so that it will go into the position I want, putting it between my teeth, bending it into a more arched shape, making it bend the opposite way - the way it's not supposed to on your hand, moving it around with my tongue some more just because. It's all a very calming and mind-focusing project. I find it hard to concentrate on anything else when I start playing with the nails.

After a while, the nail begins to soften like all the others in my moist pockets. I resist the urge to sigh as I reach my tongue into the pockets to grab the others - time for the new guy to meet the roomies I decided. I press the new nail up against the old ones. The softer ones. Ugh, I should really through them out soon… I think they're starting to deteriorate. I usually keep the nails in a nice little row - they all arch the same way, so I put them together from biggest to smallest like a puzzle for five-year-olds. I start to play with them, repeating the process like I did before only this time with multiple nails. However, the different sizes keep messing them up and getting them out of order, so I just decide to spread them and just start biting - like they're some kind of new, harder gum that never runs out. As I go on my biting frenzy I look around the school again. There's _still_ no one here. Damn it, why did I want to get here super early? Oh that's right, my dad had been drinking again last night and I didn't want to deal with his crap in the morning so I just left without breakfast to school.

Speaking of which, I was _starving_. Oh man, it probably didn't help that I had skipped dinner last night because of my dad's drinking too… I should've stopped at a fast-food restaurant on the way here… it's not like anyone would have cared, considering the fact that I don't think even the _teachers_ were here. Man, how early did I get here anyway?

… Almost an our early… Great. Just _great._ This is fan-tucking-fastic. Shouldn't the _principal_ at least be here at this time? Oh wait, she lives an hour away… never mind… Wait, if no one's here, then why were the doors open? Gah, I'll never understand this school; it's a miracle I pass my classes, considering I spend my time biting my nails instead of paying attention to the lectures.

I organize all of the nails again - a _lot_ harder than it sounds, believe me - and, putting the nails away fro storage, decide I should start walking around to get my mind off the fact that the doors might have been open all night, leaving opportunities for random hobos or psycho murderers to have wandered in here. As I take my tour around the school, I take out a single nail again and start biting it - trying to separate the layers of tissues. I love doing this - if I do it correctly, I get an extra nail. Granted, both nails are smaller and weaker than the original, or one's relatively the same size and I get a midget nail which I usually end up spitting out, but still. It's fun to do. And easy - let's not forget easy. Honestly, I think my family should be _happy_ that I bite my nails as my stress reliever. Have you _seen_ some of the other options? Drinking, drugs, cutting. Yes, biting's _much_ better than cutting - definitely. So really, my family should be _happy_ that I've found a less destructive way to relieve stress.

I stop dead in my tracks as the smell of food wafts up my nose. Instinctively, I put the nail away again - even though I didn't separate it - and follow the smell. My mouth starts watering already, and I don't even know what the smell is! Man I must be hungry… Hungrier than I thought anyway… Oh gosh, I hope whoever's eating will share…

I soon arrive to the site of the food, and find a white-haired, very pale male holding a breakfast burrito in one hand and a waffle in the other. He's sitting down, leaning against the window, and he has a paper bag next to him - most likely containing more delicious sustenance. Wait… white hair… I've heard of this guy - everyone says he's arrogant and insane. And gay. Truth-be-told, I don't care about the gay thing (it'd be weird if I did considering I'm gay too) but the insane bit worried me, just a tad… and I never liked arrogant people, possibly because everyone tell me I'm a little arrogant as well. Also, I never really associated with him because I'm not really "out" yet, and I don't want people to make assumptions (even if they might be true). However, my stomach was currently keeling over in pain right now, so I decided to not give a damn and walk over and beg for the food if I have to. Besides, it's not like anyone was here anyway.

I walk up in front of him and look down at him. He looks up at me, his mouth full of the delicious burrito he's holding. He swallows it leisurely before saying, "Is there something you want?" rather rudely.

I point at the bag and then rub my stomach, "I haven't eaten anything in the past…" I do some quick math in my head, "… eighteen hours. Could you please maybe consider sharing?"

The white-haired boy (whose name escapes me) scoffed and said, "Why should I share with an idiot who doesn't eat? Go hungry for all I care!"

I sit down next to him, the bag of glorious food in between us, and say, "_Pleeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaseeee?_"

He raises an eyebrow, "Do you even know my name?"

… Crap! Why don't I pay more attention to the gossip at this school! Oh right, because all gossip is stupid and lies anyway… "Um…" I say, desperately trying to remember in the hopes that he'll give me some food if I do, "… Not really…"

"Nope," he says, "My name isn't 'Not Really,' would you like to guess again?" he says tauntingly. He waves the waffle in front of my face and I scowl. However, I don't appear as intimidating as I would have liked because my stomach let out a loud - and when I say loud, I mean _loud_ - growl, and the previously quiet hallway was filled with the white-hared boy's maniacal laughing. Geez, with that laugh, no wonder everyone thinks he's insane. "You're _really_ hungry, huh?" he asked, obviously amused by my predicament.

I nod, and he just sits there with a thoughtful expression on his face. "Tell you what," he says, and I listen eagerly, hoping for some nourishment so I don't pass out in fifth period, "if you can guess my name, I'll let you eat."

I feel all my hopes of getting food crash to the ground. I groan, not trying at all to hide my displeasure, and say, "I have no idea…! I don't really socialize much."

"Neither do I, but I know almost everyone's _names_," he said mockingly.

I look at him with pitiful eyes, "Please?" I ask again, "Isn't there another way that I can eat your food? _Please?_ I'm starving!"

He closes his eyes in thought before sighing sadly, and then smirking. "Okay," he says, "I'll give you half my food."

I hadn't been expecting that. "Really?" I ask hopefully. He better not be pulling my leg.

He nods, filling me with such joy that I start to wonder just how hungry I _really_ am. I reach my hand inside the bag, only to have it slapped away by it's owner. I look at the boy confused.

"Hold on a second there Mr. Impatient," he says, "First off, let me tell you my name. It's Bakura."

I nod, "Nice to meet you Bakura," I say, playing along to get the food, "I'm Marik." I try to grab the food again only to have the same result. "What?" I ask, frustrated. He reaches into the bag and takes out another waffle and holds it up to my mouth. I'm about to take it when he pulls it away again. I feel like pulling out my hair. "WHAT?" I yell, "You said I could have some, and now I know your name, so _what?_"

He smirks and I _swear_ he's just doing this to tease me. "There's no way I'm letting your dirty hands touch _my_ food," he says firmly, yet the smirk on his face makes it just a little mischievous too.

I raise my eyebrow, "Then how the hell am I supposed to eat it smart one?"

"Simple," he says, "I'll feed it to you."

Okay, now I know that he _is_ insane. Great. "What?" I ask again. That seems to be my favorite word lately, "You must be joking!"

"Either I feed you or no food. Your choice."

I hesitate a little, but then my stomach made the decision for me when it growled again. It was getting impatient, knowing it was so near to food… "Okay. Fine," I say, starting to get desperate, "just hurry up - I'm _starving_."

He chuckled deeply, "Open wide," he instructed to which I complied immediately. He shoved the waffle in my mouth and I started chewing immediately. Oh. My. _God!_ I didn't know a waffle could taste so good! "This is the most delicious thing I've ever tasted…" I tell him, "_where_ did you get it?"

He smiled, "I made it."

I stare at him. "_You_ made this?" I ask incredulously.

He shrugs, "It's fun to cook. Plus, I get to eat my creations when I'm done."

I look at the white bag again. "Did you make all of the items in that bag?"

"Yup."

"This is going to be one delicious meal then."

He laughs before shoving more of the heaven-made waffle in my mouth again.

It continued like that for a while - he kept feeding me and I kept getting surprised by how _good_ everything was. Soon (too soon if you ask me), however, the white bag was empty and the delicious tasteful journey was ended. I groaned. "Bakura," I say, letting him know that I actually remembered his name this time, "you _have_ to be a chef or something when you grow up - it would be a _crime_ if you were anything else!"

He laughs. "I thought about that actually… but I'm not so sure if I want to be a chef for the rest of my life."

"Then work part time or something! Just make sure others taste your glorious creations!" Okay, maybe I was over exaggerating just a bit. Anything probably would have tasted like the best thing ever to me at that point - I had been so hungry… But hey, no harm in blowing up someone's ego right?

He just laughed at my praise, probably realizing that it was biased - just a bit. We lean back against the window again, staring at the opposing wall in front of us. I find myself automatically taking out a nail and playing with it. "Why do you do that?" Bakura asks me suddenly. I turn my head to look at his, which was already turned to me.

"Do what?" I ask innocently.

"That thing with your mouth - it's like your tongue is twisting around everywhere. Why do you do that?"

I blink. It's such an odd question… I just shrug, "I'm just bored I guess."

He gets a mischievous glint in his eyes that immediately makes me wary. What the hell? Why is his mouth slowly smiling so creepily like that?

"Bored?" he copies, sounding extremely weird and putting me on edge and making me tense, "If you're bored, I know the _perfect_ pastime."

I shuffle backwards as he leans towards me, but soon I come against one of the protruding walls that are placed every few feet and I find myself trapped by the enclosing figure. I press myself up against the wall, trying to get away from him - for I have an _idea_ of what he's planning on doing.

My suspicions are proved correct when I feel his hot breath ghost over my face, and then soft lips press against my own. My whole body convulses, what the hell is he _doing?_ I try to move away, but he just presses harder! And soon I feel his fingertips brushing my arms softly, while his other hand is flat on the floor (just a _little_ too close to my thigh for my liking) propping him up so he doesn't fall. I try to squirm away, but then he shifts, putting his hands on my shoulders instead to keep me in place. Damn it, why did he have to be strong? Why couldn't he be weak like the gay stereotype? I still squirmed, but soon realized that I had to breath - you can only breath through you nose for so long. I tried desperately not to open my mouth and to just continue breathing through my nose while still squirming, but eventually I couldn't take it anymore. I gasped for air, but what I _didn't_ gasp for was the wet tongue now invading my mouth. Oh god, it went _everywhere!_ I shivered from disgust and tried to push him away again, but he was so insistent… Why me? _Why me?_ Why couldn't I just have toughened out my hung-over dad and eaten my damn breakfast? Then I wouldn't be in this mess! This wet, hot mess…

I gasped in horror as I felt his tongue go into the pockets of my gums - _where my nails are!_

Now, almost everyone knows I'm a biter, but most people just assume I throw the nails away, _no one_ knows that I actually keep them in my mouth! And now he knows! Wait… what's he doing now?

He's taking my nails out! What the hell? Soon I feel his tongue leave my mouth along with my nails, and I look at him to see him _biting_ _**my nails!**_ He's actually biting my old, supposed-to-be disgusting, weak nails! Why would he do that? I'm about to voice my thoughts, when he interrupts, saying, "Hmm… So _that's_ what you do with your tongue all the time… I wondered about that, and I had my suspicions… Though I have to say," he said with a smirk, "I would have thought using your tongue so much would have made you a better kisser."

I feel my face flush red with anger and I cock my fist to punch him - and hopefully break his jaw, or at least make him lose a few teeth. However, he sees my hand and dodges at the last second, then he leans back in again and deposits my nails back into their rightful pocket - with his tongue of course. He stand back with that _stupid_ smirk on his face, and he says, "You know, nail biting gives you bad breath," he leans in so that our lips are one centimeter apart and whispers, "stop the nail biting," seductively. How he managed to sound that way, I'll never know, but just like that, he's gone. He stood up faster than should have been humanly possible and walked away, just like that. Leaving me with the white bag, but he didn't disappear completely, no. He just walked a few feet away and then stopped to say one more thing to me, "That was your _real_ payment for eating my food." He smirks again, "Same time and place tomorrow. If you want of course."

Then he walks away, leaving me stare at his back, wondering, _what the hell just _happened_?_

* * *

That day after school, I found my hand absently go up and touch my lips every few seconds. I quickly put them back down again as another wave of anger torrents through my body though. I still wasn't over what had happened this morning - why did he _do_ that? Why did he think he _could_ just do that? What made him think that was even a good idea? I just discovered the boys name today, and he already stick his tongue down my throat! Well, technically, it was up my pockets… but it's the same thing! What. The. _Hell!_

He was insane - he _must_ be to kiss people who _just found out his name_. And what was with that comment too? "_I would have thought using your tongue so much would have made you a better kisser_." I repeat again: What. The. _HELL!_ Not to mention the last statement: "_Same time and place tomorrow. If you want of course_." Oh yes, because I _really_ want practically a stranger's tongue in my mouth. Oh yea, I'd _definitely_ want that! Who _wouldn't?_ I hope you caught the sarcasm there or else you just might be an idiot.

Ugh. Those stupid words of his had caused me to not even enjoy the pleasures of nail biting! Every time I started playing with a nail - biting it, moving it around with my tongue… the words, "_better kisser_" popped into my head and I quickly shoved the nail back in it's storage unit. It's not fair I tell you!

So, needless to say, I was not in the best of moods as I walked from school to my house. I kicked at everything that dared to lay on the sidewalk - rocks, bits of grass, leaves, twigs, etc. I was so mad! Why the hell had he done that! I guess I know for sure that he's gay now - no one would have been able to do that so easily and offer it _again_. And I figured something else out… he's obviously had experience with this sort of thing before.

I don't even want to _think_ of all the other people (probably boys) he must have kissed.

_Ewwww!_ Gross! Disgusting! If people think nail biting's bad, then they obviously haven't been through what I've been through! I shiver as I remember the feel of that hot, wet tongue exploring every part of my mouth, tasting me, and then taking my nails! The indignity! They didn't even taste the same anymore - actually, come to think of it, why did I still _have them?_ I should've thrown them out! What is wrong with me? They were in _someone else's mouth!_ As I thought this, I spat out all the nails I had collected. I hated to watch them go, but they had to. They weren't clean anymore - weren't holy. I looked at my hands. Great, I have about a week before any of them are good enough for biting again. I groan. This is all your fault Bakura! You made me get rid of my stash! Now I have to wait a fucking _week_ for my stress reliever.

I walk home with new angry vigor, positively fuming and probably scaring the crap out of any animals or small children that were nearby. Oh _man_ I could use a nail right now… I had to settle for grinding my teeth furiously - a poor (_very_ poor) substitute for my precious nails.

As I continue my walk home, I begin to calm down (the cool, winter-spring air has that type of affect on me) and one thought manages to penetrate through my brain and leave me frozen: _The kiss wasn't _all_ bad._

… WHAT? The kiss wasn't _all bad?_ What the hell? Of course it was! It was unwanted and disgusting and -

_Pleasurable_.

My mind added the last adjective without my consent. _Pleasurable?_ I thought, questioning my _own_ sanity now, _How was it _pleasurable_? It was anything but!_

_Then why did you shiver?_

_Because I was disgusted!_

_Then why do you keep touching your lip?_

I have to stop my hand as I feel it start to move, sure enough, back to my face to feel my lip for what must have been the hundredth time today. I shake my head and continue walking. I probably look like a lunatic to anyone who's watching me… Ah well, not important. What _is_ important is figuring out what had snapped in my brain and caused me to think that that absolutely, positively, _revolting_ kiss was _pleasurable_. What was with my choice in words anyway? _Pleasurable_, it sounds like… hell, it doesn't even sound like a word anymore! Pleasurable, pleasurable, pleasurable - see! It doesn't even sound like a word! I growled dangerously, but then took a deep breath and tried to calm myself down again. I decided to take a seat on one of the many sidewalk benches that were spread out all over to collect my thoughts and at least _try_ to think rationally - though that never seems to work for me.

I take a deep breath. "Okay," I say to myself, "So, I know what happened, and I know I'm disgusted by it, but by some cruel twist of… fate I guess, I also think it's _pleasurable_. Even though that word sounds completely alienated to me now. So… What do I want to do…?"

I close my eyes and cross my arms. My foot starts tapping as I try and think. But the thing is, I have absolutely no idea what I want to do now. Maybe I should take him up on his offer and visit him again in the morning… after all, I'll get a free meal out of the deal, and maybe I'll figure out exactly how I feel about the kiss…

My eyes snap open as I realize that I actually considered going _back_ to that lunatic. Okay, I _must_ be insane. Someone, please, call the loony bin! Tell them to lock me up for insane, irrational, crazy thinking! Because heaven knows I would _not_ have thought that if I was sane.

I stand up again and continue on home to a probably drunken father, a pretty clean house, my nice older siblings, and a ton of homework and other things that I would rather not do or think about.

* * *

What the hell is wrong with me? Seriously, that's a legit question. What. The. Hell. Is. Wrong. With. Me? It's the next morning, and guess where I am? At school. An hour early. Just like yesterday.

I'm leaning against my locker again, only this time I don't have my stress-reliever and it's starting to take a toll on me. My eye is twitching, I'm grinding my teeth, and my foot won't stop tapping, no matter what I try. Not to mention that my arms are crossed and my eyes are shut tight. Has your eye ever twitched while it was closed? It's not a very good feeling. Eventually I get fed up with my never-sit-still position and I walk the hallways again - somehow heading towards the direction where he was yesterday.

Soon I am greeted by the smell of the delicious home cooking, and my mouth starts to water again. I hadn't eaten breakfast again today, since I think I had subconsciously planned on eating his food anyway - despite the cost - but I _had_, in fact, eaten dinner the night before, so I wasn't as hungry as I had been the other day. So, since my mouth was still watering, that meant that he _was_ indeed a good cook, and I hadn't been inflating his ego _too_ much. Although, it might have been too much considering the events that followed…

Soon, I see him again. In the same position, with the same white bag, eating chocolate-covered strawberries and a dry crepe. I walk slowly up to him, trying to ignore the growing smirk on his face, and sit down next to him again - the white bag being the only thing between us once more. He smirks arrogantly, "So," he said proudly, "decided you wanted more huh?"

I scowl at him, "I just want more food."

"Really?" he asks, mocking me, "Just the food and… _nothing_ else?"

I nod, "Just the food."

He chuckles, "That statement will cost you extra… but go ahead and eat if you want."

I raise an eyebrow, "You won't feed me again? Aren't you afraid of my _dirty_ hand touching your food?"

He shrugs, "Only if you want me to," he looks at me, and it's almost as if those eyes are penetrating through my very soul, "I don't really care about that anymore. Actually, I never cared, I just wanted to try it once…" He stopped speaking and I reached into the bag and took out a dry crepe and started eating. Oh. My. God. Why did this food have to be so _delicious?_ It was unfair. It was _completely_ unfair.

After I was done eating and the bag was empty again, Bakura looked at me and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. I roll my eyes and stand up, deciding to just walk away.

He obviously had different plans.

He take me by surprise and pushed me against that same wall again, just like yesterday. Only this time, we're both standing. He crushed his lips against mine, and I struggle again, but then something in my brain just snaps and I stop struggling. Then - and I still shock myself when I look back on this - I start to _kiss him back_. I don't know why. I don't know how, but I just did. And you know what?

It was better than nail biting.

… I can't believe it either, but it was. Somehow… it just was. I don't know how, they were so different. Kissing was definitely softer than nails, even old, weakened ones, and it actually required another person to do it. But they had they're similarities too, I still ended up biting his lip, and my tongue played around with something… Something just like it… Actually, I ended up just copying the moves that I did during my nail biting. He seemed to enjoy it, since occasionally he would let out a low moan of pleasure. Or maybe that was me… It was hard to tell when we were pressed up against each other as if we wanted to combine and become one.

All in all, it was wonderful, and I found myself wondering what had been wrong with me _yesterday_, and why I couldn't see how _awesome_ this feels! Oh man… You have no idea…

After a while, we both broke for air. We both were panting, and he smirked at me, "My original theory was right," he said low, seductive, flattering, "using your tongue so much _does_ make you a great kisser." He put his finger playfully on my nose, "And now your breath doesn't stink anymore." He smiles at me, "So. Will you stop the nail biting?"

I hesitate. I've been biting ever since I could remember… It's addicting and I don't even know _how_ to stop. I don't think I _can_ stop. Frankly, I don't know if I _want_ to stop. It helps me through anxiousness, through nervousness, through boredom, through _everything_, why would I want to stop? But… I think I've found something better… and I find that I can play it around in my head like a DVD whenever I want… Maybe… I don't _need_ nail biting anymore…

"… Yeah," I say finally, "I think… I think I'll stop…"

Bakura smiled. "Good," he said, before trapping my lips in another heated embrace.

* * *

Not much happened after that… I came to school an hour early every day for what came to be our usual routine, but something tells me that I won't _ever_ get tired of it - oh no. When I was asked by my sister why I was leaving so early all the time, I decided to tell her the truth. Mostly because I knew if I told a lie and she found out the truth later that she would kill me, but, I still told the truth. Surprisingly, she was okay with it. "I had… had my suspicions brother…" she had said. I figured she was talking about my orientation…

Bakura and his white bag of goodies brings something new and exciting every day, and it's always a tasting adventure that's enjoyable - even the second time around (if you know what I mean).

Oh, and I never bit another nail again. I found something much more... addictive...

* * *

I hope you enjoyed this, I typed this all in one sitting when it was very late, so I don't expect it to be very good… ^_^" Tell me if you liked it anyways… please… I'm begging you… I crave opinions… Did you like how it turned out? Did it seem realistic? (That's the question I always ask myself…) Please tell me… I'm going to crawl into my warm bed now, night.


End file.
